V Day
by Valkyrien
Summary: Ever felt that hint of female hysteria in the air while scenting rose candles and hearing the wild stampede of male feet towards their local perfume counters? Brace yourselves - this is V-Day Evo-Style. Couples will be Romy, Jonda, Lyle, Lancitty.
1. Day 1 08:00 Hours

**DISCLAIMER: Bla, bla, bla. Of course they don't belong to me. Don't be stupid. This is fan-made. Now stop searching for a reason to sue and read it, if you don't like fiction written by fans, get the hell out. Disclaiming fan-fiction pisses me off.**

**_This is not a WK-request or anything relating to, involved with, or pertaining to the request offer - which will end by the middle of next week, so if I don't hear from you before then, you are out of the running - this is simply a V-Day inspired fic, using the established couples from WK since V-Day is coming up and many of us have felt the widespread panic that is ensuing as a response to the ticking of the clocks worldwide. As usual. So buckle up for a fun-filled ride all the way to Cupid-Town on the Love-Train from Hell, piloted by your truly with a side order of the Devil's own minions and Hades as my co-pilot, because this is not your average V-Day, kiddies. This is V-Day Evo-Style. To recap couples in case you're new to this, Romy, Jonda, Lancitty, Laura and Kyle Gibney (Wild Child) because I can and it is covered in awesome, and numerous other side-couples who will feature loosely but help spread the general hatred of the occasion since we all know, nothing's more painful than getting her the wrong gift._**

**_In the immortal words of Kyle: Enjoy._**

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**V-Day**

Day 1 – 08:00 hours.

It could be felt palpably in the air in the weeks leading up to the date. Already on the first, emotions were running high, and men were to be seen simply _running_. To those finely tuned persons – the empathic, the genetically predisposed, and the mentally ill and thusly over-aware – present to witness the phenomenon, the general mood and building tension could best be described as _'bloody frightening'_, _'l'enfer!'_, and in one memorable case _'like a bomb going off in an enclosed space – ugly, with lots of crying.'_ And those observations were just from the end of January.

On the first of February that year, the morning began much like any other morning. Wanda had slept over at the institute, John had come to collect her in Lance's car because Kitty had slept with Lance at the Brotherhood as was their wont on weekdays and would thus not be needing his mode of transportation, Remy was up and making Rogue her everyday breakfast of biscuits and sweet tea, and Kyle was watching him over the rim of a coffee mug that was currently his one priority. Laura was, as usual, taking longer to shower than he did, a set routine after they had established the unfortunate fact that being up and ready to shower at the same time led to delays in schedule that could set a day's start back hours if they weren't careful to ensure that he got up first and was in the kitchen by the time she was properly awake.

John slunk into the kitchen, haggard and orange-haired, his customary morning appearance when having spent a night devoid of Wanda, being as he was an otherwise chipper and breakfasty sort of guy. Remy poured him a shot of coffee so black it resembled tar, which he drank in his tired stupor before realising what it was and spitting it all over the counter.

"Jesus Chris' on a bloody stick – what the hell 're ya tryin' ta do ta me?!" he howled, placing the mug gingerly on the now coffee-moistened counter with a look of utter disgust.

"Y' shouldn' drive when y' not awake, _mon ami_," Remy said serenely, and John saluted him rudely and leant in over him to fetch the kettle and boil some water, pulling a clean, un-tainted mug from the cupboard and dangling a teabag from his finger which he pointed at the Cajun.

"An' y' know I don' drink coffee ya daft sod! Mind y' biscuits!" He stomped to the microwave, pushed the kettle into the appliance, turned it on, and stalked over to the island, plopping himself down on a stool next to Kyle. The feral paid him no attention whatsoever. Remy aborted the kettle+microwave = bomb mission and took John's mug from him, filled it with mildly warm water from the kettle, pushed it into the microwave, and set it to blitz.

The Australian grumbled darkly under his breath about people who were capable of kitchen-related doings before twelve. Kyle sipped his coffee.

"Don' see why y' can' come an' get _de fille_ when she's **awake**, _homme_, what are y' – goin' t'rough wit'drawal?" Remy teased, and John glared at him.

"I'll have you know – ya pompous little bastard – that I know for a fact ya sleep with Rogue's teddybear when she's at our place an' doesn' let ya come along," he sneered, and Remy winced, looking around for possible spreaders of this heinous truth – _rumour_, heinous _**rumour**_. Kyle did not appear to have registered any mention of embarrassing teddy-bear incidents.

"Shut up abou' dat! Leas' I don' mope aroun' when _ma chere_ ain' here, gettin' in ev'ryone's way!" he hissed, but the microwave _ding_-ed and John was distracted by the promise of Tetleys and wasted no time in fishing out the milk from the fridge without looking while he one-handedly dunked the teabag in the boiling water and then applied milk to it in a surprising burst of coordination and dexterity, drinking half of it in one go and sinking back on to his stool with a contented sigh.

"Oh, tha's good stuff..." he exhaled, and Remy rolled his eyes, one of them returning to check on his steadily rising biscuits.

"Why'd ya get up so damn early ta cook for 'er anyhow? Seems wrong," John observed, and Remy gestured with his spoon.

"_L'amour, mon ami_. Makes un homme do crazy tings – like gettin' up early," he said, pointing at Kyle with the implement.

"Dat one, he s'posed t' get up early, an' he de livin' dead before ten at bes'! Tink he only gets up t' please de _petite fille_." John shrugged, burying his nose in the sweet scent of Tetleys.

"Can' blame 'im. My Wanda gets fierce as hell when I don' do as told in the mornin's. Think she's channelin' the devil until lunchtime. Then she sorta mellows, ya know?"

"Enough t' put y' t'rough de neares' window?" John's eyes grew dustant and a misty quaver entered his voice.

"After twelve she uses the walls..." he sighed, and Remy pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Between y' an' 'im, i's a miracle none of y' be dead yet." Kyle's ears visibly pricked, and Remy raised an eyebrow.

"Sign o' life?" he mused to himself, and John shrugged, raising his own mug to his lips. As adept as they may have been at reading each other, however, they had yet to completely accustom themselves to Kyle's inbuilt alert-system. If they had, they would have realised the classic signs of identification and dismissal they had just witnessed. Instead, they were unprepared when Bobby burst through the door and started tearing things out of the fridge.

"Damn, boy, what y' doin' wit' dat – _non_, not on de – Drake, y' puttin' down de milk or I swear – " Remy yelled, dodging around the lad and taking things from him – in the milk's case saving it from an abrupt meeting with the floor, and John got up and took hold of the teenager's arms, pinning them to his sides while Remy relieved him of the various grocery products.

"Reason for demolishing the fridge?" the Aussie demanded, and Bobby straightened his back and answered in a concise, slightly over-accelerated manner.

"Fixing breakfast for Amara because it's the first of February, sir!" The titulation might have been related to a run-in he had had after a field-test with Logan, Kyle, Remy and John that had been set up military style to teach the kids some discipline. Some of them still hadn't quite recovered. John's look was a litte confused and quite a bit dismissive.

"At the risk o' soundin' stupid – what the hell's so special about the first of February?" he asked, letting go of the youth, who remained where he was.

"It means there are only two weeks until Valentine's Day, sir!" John looked at Remy with a nonplussed expression on his face. Remy shrugged.

"Permission to speak freely sir?" Remy nodded and turned back to his biscuits, and John crossed his arms as Bobby relaxed, his posture yet again becoming terrible but his nerves seeming to be slighty less on edge.

"Two weeks left til Valentine's Day means we've only got two weeks to make the girls feel special and plan the big day!" he blurted out, sounding pleased that he knew something they didn't, and John opened his mouth to say something about stupid greeting card holidays and that surely every day spent with the woman you loved was special, when Kurt leapt into the kitchen with something shiny and plastic in his hand, ported to the other side, took Kyle's coffee, drank it all, gave back the mug, exclaimed –

"I'll bring back ze card vhen I'm done, bro," and then ported away. Bobby's jaw went slack and he shrank into the fridge door in an attempt to hide. Kyle's eyes opened, slits of pure blue malice, and fixed on the unfortunate teen like some kind of unearthly, evil fear-tracing device. So really, he was much like himself in the mornings in the second stages of wakefulness.

"It has begun," he growled, then pointed in a rather scary foreboding way at Remy and John and uttered the apocalyptic words;

"Fourteen days from this moment, the world as we know it is going to end. This is just the beginning. May your Gods have mercy upon your souls. I'm moving to Antarctica until it's over," before getting up, rounding on Bobby, and adding,

"If any of you tell Laura about this bloody holiday, I'm telling everyone about the teddy, the adult braces, and who doesn't actually like Wanda's cookies. Enjoy." Bobby clapped both hands over his mouth, John went so white he looked as though he might faint, and Remy staggered a little. Kyle smiled evilly, and then stalked out of the kitchen, confident that February was still his bitch. Bobby looked at Remy nervously.

"W-would he really do that..?" Remy fanned himself with the oven mitt.

"I don' know, boy. But maybe i's best if we don' tell de _fille_ 'bout Valentine's Day, non? She don' need t' hear it from us, de girls can tell 'er – we got enough t' handle makin' plans f' de big day!" John, still stark white, took a fortifying swig of tea.

"Oh hell... Do Goths even celebrate Valentine's Day?" he mumbled, mostly to himself, and Remy put a shaky hand on his arm.

"If dey do, _mon ami_... Dey do it diff'ren'ly t' ot'er humans..." Bobby nodded absently, hands moving towards Remy's cooling biscuits, and the Cajun smacked them soundly with the spoon.

"Y' ain' gettin' no free V-day poin's from me, _homme_," he growled, and Bobby was so shaken at the likeness to Kyle's doom-face that he backed up and ran from the kitchen.

"John – we need a plan. Bring de kitty coffee an' tell 'im we meet at Harry's at five t' discuss tactics," Remy said sharply, and John twisted his mouth into a grimace.

"Who's payin'?"

"I'll pay. Tell 'im i's life or deat'. Tell 'im anytin'. Sweet Jesus tell 'im i's f' de sake o' brot'erhood, jus' make 'im come!" John nodded, saluted, and tootled off in the direction Kyle had left in.

"We're gonna need t' stick t'get'er on dis," Remy muttered darkly as he spread butter on his biscuits, poured out the tea, and began the ascent to Rogue's room.


	2. Day 1 18:00 Hours

**_DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters, but the story is mine. Make of that what you will, but if you somehow get reason to sue out of that then you sure as hell are stupid. If your wife or female partner puts you up to it, then you have my sympathies, as V-Day is almost upon us and the mass hysteria is only growing._**

_To those of you who might complain about chapter length; don't. There's more coming, this is a pretty fast update, and this was never intended to be the same sort of scale as SL or WK? so just calm down and enjoy the story, m'kay? There's plenty more to come. For once I am not going to include lengthy thank yous here, because those of you who reviewed, you already know the extent of my love and appreciation for you, so in case anyone else was wondering: I FUCKING LOVE MY REVIEWERS AND SHOW THEM EVERY BLOODY TIME THEY LET ME KNOW THEY'RE AROUND, EVEN IF THEY DON'T REVIEW BUT JUST PM ME BECAUSE THEY DON'T HAVE TIME. ONLY TIME I NEGLECT TO IS WHEN MY LIFE GETS IN THE WAY, OTHERWISE I AM ONE THOUSAND PERCENT BEHIND MY REVIEWERS BECAUSE I LOVE THEM ALL TO BITS. Right, think that's any doubt cleared up ^^_

_Seriously you guys, I really appreciate you all. As my lengthy replies surely tell you XD_

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**V-Day – Day 1 – 18:00 Hours**

"I hereby call this council to order. All in favour o' drinkin', please say yea!" The deafening 'yea's that assaulted John's eardrums attested to the severity of their joint situation.

"Alrigh' then!" he exclaimed, after throwing back a shot to clear his head,

"Status report. Remy, tell me somethin' I wan' ta hear." The Cajun shook his head forlornly.

"De fiel' is lost, _mon ami_. Kitty tol' Rogue abou' Lance bookin' some mountain retreat weekend t' celebrate an' _ma chere_ put on her game face. I **have** t' go one better dan dem or _ma belle chere_ gon' cut dis Cajun off so hard it'll be like de early days all over again. I worked hard t' get where I am t'day, Johnny – I can' go back t' dat!" The sympathy in John's eyes warred with his desire to slap Remy for being so whipped, but he just sighed and tipped his glass to the ailing Southerner.

"I feel y' pain, mate. I'm not sure Wanda _really_ celebrates anythin' beyond Christmas an' her own birthday in the traditional way, but she's big on holidays that mean nothin'. I think I'm screwed," he said honestly, and Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"How many more goddamn holidays are out there that mean as little as this one?" John held up a hand and started ticking them off.

"Yom Kippur, Hannukah, Thanksgiving – "

"Halloween – " Remy interjected, and Kyle and John stared at him.

"Halloween is better than Christmas," Kyle said slowly, the way one would explain to a child that fire is hot. John nodded agreement.

"Hones'ly mate, sometimes I wonder with you," he said sadly, clapping Remy on the shoulder in a heartening manner before returning to the tally of meaningless holidays.

"Bank Holiday Monday, Easter – "

"Y' don' celebrate _Easter?_" Remy asked incredulously, and Kyle sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Easter's only worth celebratin' if y' can hunt for Easter eggs, therefore, anyone above the age of ten is relegated t' the non-celebratin' crowd unless you're religious, an' we're not religious," John explained, once again shooting Remy a saddened look as though truly disappointed in him, before continuing the roster.

"Where was I..? Oh yeah! Earth Day, System Administrator's Day, Pentecost, Winter Solstice, Samhain, Beltane – " He paused and looked at Kyle who shrugged and then said,

"I guess we could agree that anyone who celebrates that has _something_ right," to which John nodded before going on.

"Then there are the meaningless holidays ya can get behind, like International Talk Like A Pirate Day, International _Bacon_ Day, Singles Awareness Day, No Pants Day, International Fetish Day – "

"Where's dis goin', Johnny?" Remy asked with raised eyebrows and a no-nonsense look on his handsome face.

"We're explainin' how many meanin'less holidays there are out there."

"F' God's sake Johnny, we're tryin' t' figure out a plan t' avoid V-Day an' you're listin' all de ot'er stupid holidays we have t' worry 'bout?" Remy spluttered, and Kyle observed him with detached interest.

"No, just the ones we'll likely observe versus the ones we intend to ignore," he said calmly, and Remy sighed.

"How's y' _petite fille_ holdin' up, _mon ami?_ She on board wit' de emigration plans?" he asked Kyle, and the blonde feral grimaced.

"Jubilee got to her before I did – she wanted to know what all the excitement was about. She's now insisting we observe normal human tradition and exchange cards. So far, that's all she's been told, but you better believe the minute Pryde comes home and realises my poor Laur' doesn't know anything more about this stupid bloody holiday, she'll be filling her head with all that pink, candy-covered bull before I get a chance to stop her... And then my life is going to be hell unless Laur' gets _exactly_ what she's imagined all this to be." Remy shook his head sadly.

"All dem meddlin' _filles_..." he sighed, and John knocked back the rest of his shot like it was milk.

"Oh well... Somethin'll come up... At least no one's tol' Laura 'bout the Summers Tradition, 'ave they?" he said cheerfully, and Kyle looked at him in a way that suggested he was just waiting for the shit to hit the fan. Again.

"The _what?_"

"Summers Tradition. Each an' ev'ry godforsaken year, de Barbie-couple have t' outdo demselves an' ev'ry ot'er couple in de mansion at havin' a bigger, better V-Day dan anyone else. It gets pretty intense. Lots o' couples in de runnin'. Lots o' filles cryin'. Lots o' break ups caused," Remy said sadly. The face Kyle pulled said it all, but he added some expletives and a ream of disapproving feedback to this new information.

"That's fucking disgusting. Who _are_ these people? That's just not _right_," he growled, and John nodded, beckoning the barman towards him with his glass.

"I hear ya mate. Wanda an' I try ta make ev'ry day special, but a love-up competition 'gainst yourselves that causes _that_ much damage to other people's relationships? That's jus' too damn weird. Can' see Laura takin' it well when she finds out about it – what with her undyin' hatred for those two tosspots," he remarked, and Kyle smiled a little.

"It's more a deep-rooted dislike of everything about them including their moral code and the detergent Grey uses. Laur' never forgave her for ruining all her shirts... She had to wear mine for a week until Rogue dragged her to the mall. Gotta love a woman who can hold that kind of grudge," he said nostalgically, and Remy nodded, beginning in a wistful tone,

"Y' know, _mon ami, ma chere_ once ignored Jeannie f' an entire mont' 'cause she ate de las' o' Rogue's pecan pie... Now dat's commitment," he said with a soft smile, and John sighed in turn.

"Wanda once set light to 'er brother's underwear while 'e was still in it ta teach 'im ta turn off the kitchen light when 'e lef' the room ta save on the electric bill... I like a woman of principle..." There was an awkward, dreamy silence, before they all collected their senses once more and became men again.

"Okay, so we're all a little crazy when it comes ta the Sheilas," John admitted, and Remy spread his hands in a 'what can ya do?' gesture.

"Dey deserve de bes', Johnny-boy. We're damn sure de luckies' bunch o' losers dis side o' de water," he said honestly, and Kyle grinned, self-deprecating more than anything else.

"She's sure as hell the luckiest I've ever gotten and I'm not sure I deserve her at all. What's a stupid card to me as long as it makes her happy, right?" John slapped him on the back and refilled all their glasses with his newly acquired bottle.

"Tha's the spirit mates!" he yelled, and Remy smirked,

"_Je sais_, now i's in Remy's glass, _non?_" To which Kyle and John paused, looking first at him, then to each other, before John said,

"Would you do the honours this time?" and Kyle nodded.

"Gladly," he said pleasantly, before giving Remy a stern look.

"I don't know if that's the way you do it in Cajun country, but in the rest of the world, drinking is a serious business. There's no room for puns and wordplay. Drinking's a man's game once a council's over, and the object is then to _lose_ your mind rather than prove you've got one. M'kay?" Remy mulled this over, and John waved his glass at him temptingly. Remy took it without hesitation.

"_Oui_, Remy can do t'oughtless," he said with an evil grin, and his two companions roared with laughter and clinked glasses.

"To V-Day!" John shouted over the hubbub, and the other two joined him in the chorus,

"_To V-Day!_"


	3. Day 2 10:00 Hours

**_DISCLAIMER: I still don't own this, but I'll tell you that if I had my way I'd abolish V-Day entirely, so there!_**

_Here come the girls... XD At least, in a little while ^V^_

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**V-Day – Day** **Two – 10:00 Hours**

For some unknown reason – perhaps the spiteful or biased might think it was to elevate the tensions already running high in the mansion – the Summers' had decided to move back in until just after V-Day, citing a wish to reconnect with the others after their recent nuptials and subsequent honeymoon and move-out. Of course, seeing as how their presence at such a stressful time was not exactly wished for, most everyone in the mansion had already drawn the conclusion that they were simply there to observe the chaos and gloat over their own relative perfection.

Those who had been drinking until late the previous evening at Harry's, however, were not made aware of this new shift in the balance of life until unfairly woken two hours before noon by their rather unkind partners. And so, when Kyle and Remy trudged downstairs to the kitchen to find the coffee, they were instead met by the hand-holding couple of Doom themselves.

"Good morning Remy, Kyle," Jean said, sounding far too chipper, and they both mumbled non-committal avoidance-tactic nothings to prompt her to believe they cared before coffee.

"You guys don't look so good – rough night?" Scott asked over his newspaper, and Kyle shot him a covert look that if he had caught it would have forced him to accede that there were some places a newspaper just was not meant to go and therefore that coninued blathering was a poor idea. Sadly, Scott was not an observant person.

"I heard that Rogue's decided to do something for Valentine's this year," Jean said lightly, as though it wasn't completely obvious that she was rather certain that anything Rogue chose to do to commemorate the greeting-card holiday would pale in comparison to her own plans. Remy poured the coffee, took a sip, and nodded.

"_Oui_," he said curtly, and scooted a newly-filled mug to Kyle's side of the island. The feral deliberately turned his back to the couple at the table and curled his hands around his coffee, clearly tuning them out.

"So is there some kind of Southern tradition for celebrating it?" Jean asked, a little too eagerly, and Remy raised an eyebrow.

"_Non_," he replied, returning his full attention to his mug, and Jean fumed silently.

"Oh well, you never know – I've never really travelled much," she said brightly, her tone in stark contrast to the negative empathic feedback Remy was picking up from her.

"Guess you and Laura don't really observe holidays like this, huh?" Scott asked, directing the question at Kyle, who ignored him completely.

"Oh honey, you know he's not a morning person, leave him alone. I'm sure he and Laura celebrate it their own way," Jean said, mock-cheer in her voice barely layering over the usual slight patronisation she tended to use whenever dealing with either Wanda and John or Kyle and Laura. Knowing that she didn't _really_ do it to be a bitch didn't make it any less grating though. Kyle ignored her, as well.

"I know, I know," Scott laughed,

"I just sometimes forget that not everyone's like us, sweetie. That's why it's so good to be back, get in touch with everyone again!" Kyle saw this deviation in their attentions towards he and Remy as his opportunity to leave without a backward glance, and Remy followed him covertly as they stared deeply into each other's eyes. He caught up with the blonde on the stairs.

"Chris' dat was awful," he mumbled, eyes checking this way and that for eavesdroppers, and Kyle nodded.

"I hate that woman," he said bitterly, and Remy grinned.

"Good t' know, _mon ami_. Always knew y' had better taste dan dat," he teased, and Kyle rolled his eyes.

"Whatever works for you. Off to woo the lovely Rogue?" Remy made an exaggerated swooning gesture.

"_Mais, oui!_ De wooing, dat be Remy's specialty!" he said with a smirk, and Kyle shook his head at the renewed efforts of the Ragin' Cajun.

"I kind of get the feeling your **_chere_'**s immune to you by now," he said distantly, retreating up the stairs, and Remy felt a sharp arrow of doubt deflate his self-worth quite suddenly. He glared at Kyle's back.

"Dat ain' funny, _homme!_" he yelled after the blonde, who just waved at him before disappearing round the corner. In a fit of nervous energy, Remy whipped out his phone and hit speed-dial three. After two rings a muffled,

"Bugger off..." answered him, and he sighed with relief.

"Johnny? 'S Remy," he said quietly, sneaking into a quiet corridor.

"I know who it is, ya daft tosser – phone's set t' ring specially when i's you. Now bugger off!" was the cross reply, and Remy's curiosity peaked through the snaking fear that perhaps his charm wasn't applicable to the Rogue.

"Specially? Wha's it play?" he asked with interest, and the groan on the other side told him that John had awaited just such a response to the revelation and wasn't impressed.

"_Never Gonna Give You Up_," John said coldly. Remy processed this for a moment, and then frowned.

"Y' a sick man, Pyro." John snorted on the other end.

"Ya called me at this ungodly hour jus' ta tell me crap I already know? Righ'. What's goin' down your end?" It was Remy's turn to stifle a giggle.

"Not'in'."

"Then will ya please, _please_ go away? I'm asleep." Remy hastened to stop the Aussie hanging up, regaining his equilibrium fast.

"_Non! Mon ami, s'il vous plait,_ Remy needs y'!" he hissed, and John paused on the other end, just about to terminate the call.

"What?" Remy took a deep breath and then went for the plunge.

"D' y' tink maybe _ma chere_ ain' responsive t' Remy's charm no more?" There was a long silence. The suspense became too much.

"Johnny!" he yelped, and the Aussie drew in a sharp breath on the other end.

"Are you off your game mate?" he asked slowly, and Remy again cast around for potential listeners-in.

"_Non, je ne pense pas, mais_ Kyle **said** – "

"Anythin' that man says before twelve can be fully discounted as poppycock, you _know_ that! Tell me you're on your game Rem', ya can' bail on me now – we need you sharp an' ready ta take on the lovebugs fo' V-Day or we are done, you hear me? _Done!_" Remy listened to the ranting with his mouth awkwardly open in shock. He closed it when he recalled that standing around with an open mouth was a sure way to look unintelligent. And catch flies.

"_Non_, Johnny, 'm fine, I jus' doubted m'self dere f' a minute – 'm ready t' do dis, we can do dis," he reassured the frantic foreigner, and John made a disgruntled noise.

"Well if ya know you've got 'er covered then what the hell are ya listenin' ta Kyle for? _Go get your Sheila!_" Remy's eye twitched involuntarily. The pressure was on.

"Okay..." he said warily, then heard a scuffling sound.

"Gotta go – Wanda's wakin' up – go do some bloody legwork already – the cause needs you!" John said threateningly, before abruptly hanging up, leaving Remy with a renewed sense of purpose and a pressing question on his lips.

Had Wanda really slept through all of that?

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Laura Howlett was not going to pretend she understood why Angelo was not allowed to see Jubilee until he had decided to 'be a man and take her out without that damn hoodie on' – which to her sounded like an invitation to do battle (or have intercourse sans the thing, which frankly boggled her mind considerably, having been of the understanding that that sort of thing required at least partial and preferably full nudity) – but she surmised it had something to do with this Valentine's Day that had everyone so excited. As far as Jubilee had explained, it was all about giving cards to prove your affection for your partner or lover – or both – and why such a simple thing should need it's own holiday hd her completely stumped, but as with so much else she put the strangeness down to human behaviour. Failing that, she could blame pop culture if she needed to, something Kitty had told her a while ago was perfectly allowed if she had an inexplicable behavioral pattern on her hands.

She had a sneaking suspicion that Kyle knew more about this strange holiday than he was telling her, but he had been absent with very little leave since the night before, when she had told him they would be observing this card-giving tradition this year, and he had returned very late and bumped into things on his way to the bathroom, so she reckoned he'd been out drinking. She didn't mind nearly as much as Rogue did when Remy went out drinking – after all, Kyle could still drive while under the influence since it wore off so quickly, and if he did somehow manage to have an accident he'd be able to walk away from it anyway – but she tended to miss him when he wasn't home to sleep with her. There was something oddly comforting about falling asleep next to one's man that she wholly embraced as long as he was up slightly before she was to avoid the old trap of attempting to shower at the same time and ending up forgetting that there was other stuff to be done.

It had been a recurring mistake in their first approximately four months together until she had put her foot down and decided he should rise first and be gone before she needed to use the bathroom. He didn't argue the point, another thing she liked that they had established. If he had objections he'd sulk rather than voice them, she'd call him on his lack of positive attitude, they'd shout at eachother, they'd make up, and all would be well again. Rogue had told her this was completely normal, but again it was one of those things Laura was certain they'd have kept doing regardless of whether or not it was 'normal'. Hell, sometimes she yelled at him just to make him yell back. There was something satisfying about being reminded of the good old days when a fight meant going outside. That, however, was no longer allowed.

She was musing over various aspects of their relationship and his motives for leaving quite so early _that_ particular morning when he appeared in the doorway, coffee in hand.

"They're home," he said with obvious disgust in his tone, and she raised an eyebrow, a prompt for more information.

"The Devil's Rejects," he elaborated, and she pulled a face, to which he responded with the half-smile she knew meant he was reflecting on how well they complimented each other. She smiled back.

"You know you're a thousand times more beautiful than that red-headed hussy?" he asked softly, and she hesitated. That was new. Usually it was the look and that was it. Compliments weren't really their _thing_.

"Where is this coming from?" she asked suspiciously, and he shrugged, distant again.

"Nowhere. 'S just the truth." Again, weird. Not the distance, the lack of proper pronunciation. Her Kyle might have an oddly mixed-up accent under that deep, growly voice, but he tended to be just as correct as she was unless he got upset and then he just swore a lot. In fact, her Kyle just _generally_ swore a lot. She didn't mind that either. She did mind that he was keeping something from her.

"You left last night. Remy and John were with you. You did not react when I told you of this Valentine's Day, and now you are behaving oddly. Why is that?" she asked, and he walked past her, putting the mug down on the dresser, a bad habit she ignored unless he left things like that for more than five hours at a time, at which point they would have to start the cycle of shouting. She felt that she gave fair warning with the time frame.

"There is no reason. There is not always a reason." He retrieved his jacket from the chair it was hung over the back of, and turned to face her, putting it on.

"I need to get out of here for a while. Will you be okay with them in the house?" She didn't reply, and he seemed to accept that without question, also uncharacteristic, but when he made to leave the room she barred his way and slipped her arms around him.

"Hey, what the – "

"Tell me what's wrong!" she demanded, sounding quite childish, and he smiled at that.

"Nothing. I'm fine. Can I leave or should I bring you so you don't kill them while I'm gone? You know I can't let you do that without me. Specs is mine," he teased, and she stuck her tongue out at him and let go, turning her back and crossing her arms, an uncomfortable but very effective move she had learnt by observing Rogue's dealings with Remy.

"If you will keep secrets from me then you can just leave!" she said coldly, and heard him stifle the usual chuckle from behind her at her petulance.

"Laur'... I promise, I don't have any secrets, okay?" She almost relented at the soft purring in her ear, but she was made of stronger stuff. For the love of God, she'd been experimented on by some of the worst sadists in science, she could resist a little –

"Don't be like that Laur'... I'd rather you just hit me than do this... It hurts less..." the hopelessly sad tone tipped her over the edge and she whirled round and gave him a hug despite her best intentions.

"I'm sorry! I just hate that you are being so strange today!" she said too quickly, and he kissed her nose.

"I've never met a woman who reads so much into a compliment as you, Laur'. Now – coming or staying?" She grinned.

"I will stay – Torpid wanted to speak to me. You go on. But do not bring Remy again or Rogue will be angry and then perhaps she won't give him a card on the fourteenth and I think that might upset him," she cautioned, and he pretended to be shocked.

"She doesn't appreciate me corrupting her boyfriend? Well would you look at that?" She giggled a little and then pulled him down for a proper goodbye-kiss. She couldn't remember ever giggling like that before she'd met him. She pulled away after what she deemed an appropriate farewell and he sighed, then gave her a mock-stern look.

"Okay, try not to kill you-know-who, give Tori a hug from me, and for the love of all that is deep-fried, woman, stay away from Pryde today!" He stepped away from her and made for the door again, and she nodded.

"I expect a reason for that last one when you return," she called after him, and he blew her a kiss.

"Thanks for the conference time, I'll try and make it believable," he shot back, and she sighed a little herself before collecting her senses. She'd never been quite so easy to soften before him, either. With a quick glance in the mirror to check the post-kiss damage she fluffed out her hair and left for Rogue's room. The boys were up to something and she'd need her sister for this one.

* * *

Rogue had had quite enough of Remy's weirdness. She had been in her hip-cocked, cross-armed position for the past five minutes trying to wade through all his bullshit excuses for the sudden ladykiller attitude he was pulling with her, and it was getting old. The knock at the door was heaven sent at this point.

"Come on in," she yelled, and Laura opened the door, took one look at Remy and his under-pressure expression and said,

"I knew it," and Rogue narrowed her eyes at her Cajun lover and pointed to the now-open exit.

"Ya know the way, sugah!" The defeated Southerner slunk out without even trying to argue, past Laura, who slammed the door after him and then nodded to her sister.

"They are planning something. Kyle has been strange all morning. Remy?" Rogue made a derisive noise and gestured to the dresser, wherupon rested a vase of black roses.

"Look at that an' tell me mah man's doin' right by me!" she cried, and Laura gave her a quizzical look.

"Wrong colour?" she asked, puzzled, and Rogue wondered what on earth she could mean until she remembered. Laura didn't know.

"Aw honey, Ah totally forgot to tell you about this – Valentine's day is in twelve days an' Rem' has ta do somethin' special for me. Jeannie ain' winnin' this year!" Laura tilted her head to one side.

"Valentine's Day is... a competition?" she asked curiously, and Rogue nodded.

"Oh yeah! It's lahke the biggest event of the year if we're talkin' couples. Ah'm sorry honey, Ah didn't think to tell you and then all of a sudden here we were," she said apologetically, realising that her slip had cost Laura time if she wanted in on the V-Day action. Laura sat down on Rogue's bed cross-legged and placed a finger against her lips, deep in thought.

"That is what he was keeping from me!" she said finally, and Rogue sat down opposite her on her dressing-table stool.

"Kyle knew? He can' have sugah, it's a mansion thang. Don' see how he could have found out – the boys don' talk about these things," she dismissed, but Laura's eyes shone with righteous anger and Rogue accepted that perhaps her sister would need more convincing that there was no conspiracy to keep her in the dark regarding important social goings-on.

"He _did_ know, Rogue, they must have spoken of it last night. He was keeping it from me and he told me there was nothing – that is why he did not want me talking to Kitty today!" Now this was weird.

"He told you not ta talk to Kitty? Why?" Laura made a 'why do you think?' gesture and growled,

"She would have told me immediately if she had been here last night instead of with Lance – he knew she would inform me upon her return and he did not wish me to know of this competition," then hesitated.

"Rogue, what are the rules of Valentine's Day?"

* * *

Wanda had been bemused when John had left for no apparent reason despite their plans to go and eat too much at the local pie-happy diner, but when she felt her phone vibrate and then heard the first few tones of _She's Got Balls_ and hastened to pick up.

"Laura? Talk to me honey," she said cheerfully, glad that someone was calling. It sometimes got lonely when John wasn't home and Pietro was out somwhere. Toad was more often than not with the Morlocks these days, where he had found a sense of peace nd belonging he hadn't really had anywhere else before, so the house was fairly empty.

"It's both of us, sugah, you're on speakerphone. Has Johnny been actin' weirdly t'day?" Rogue's voice crackled through, and Wanda knew at once that something was up.

"He just left, no explanation, didn't get one for last night either. Remy gone too?"

"And Kyle, Laura's climbing the walls."

"I am not! I am angry that I have been deceived!" Wanda couldn't imagine how. It was hard to get one past Laura at any given time and she couldn't really see what on earth Kyle would want to keep from her. As far as she could tell he lived and breathed for her.

"Honey, has John mentioned V-Day to you?" Rogue asked, and Wanda shook her head despite knowing the Southern Belle couldn't see her.

"No, not really. Is that what this is about?"

"The Summers' Tradition. Kyle kept it from Laura for unknown reasons – "

"Unknown? He doesn't want to compete with them! How could he _not_ want to compete with them? We _hate_ them!" Laura sounded rightly upset, almost miserable, and Wanda felt her own hot temper rise.

"That's not on. You know what, I don't like doing this over the phone, can you meet me in town?" she asked, already casting about for her purse and coat.

"Sure, usual place?" Wanda smirked despite herself.

"Do we ever meet anywhere else when it's just us? I'll be there in half an hour."

"Good – and honey?" Wanda paused in applying her lipstick to say,

"Yes?" and Rogue continued in lowered tones,

"We may need to – um – _calm_ Laura... Think she's taking it pretty hard..." Wanda could understand that, and felt sorry for the poor girl. For all she was such a solid, dependable, strong person, inside she was incredibly fragile, and if anyone held the key to truly damaging her it would have to be Kyle. There were some bonds no one else could match up to.

"I'll see what I can do," she replied quietly, then in a louder voice,

"I'll see you both there, I love you!"

"We love ya too, sugah. Drive safely now," Rogue said affectionately, and Wanda rolled her eyes.

"It was _one_ crash, Rogue!" she protested, but the Southerner was already laughing though her goodbyes and hung up before Wanda could defend her driving skills any further.

In her defence, the other guy had looked much worse off.


	4. Day 2 15:00 Hours

**_DISCLAIMER: None of this is mine now stop your bitchin' and read._**

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**V-Day – Day Two – 15:00 Hours – Blacklight**

Docile was not a word you'd generally associate with Laura Howlett, but with the help of Wanda's hand in hers emitting a gentle blue glow, the agitation from earlier had abated dramatically and she had recovered sufficiently to partake of absinthe with the two others. The combination of beneficial hexing and alcohol was apparently indeed very calming, and her eyes were slightly hooded as she observed the argument between Rogue and Wanda.

" – why not? It's not like Remy'll be that badly hurt, and John's used to it by now! Besides, we can angle it so Kyle will take the brunt of it – Laura doesn't mind, do you honey?" Laura most certainly did not, but she said nothing in response to the Scarlet Witch's angry question because Rogue cut in before she could gather her wits enough to agree that perhaps the boys _would_ benefit from a little explosion – for purely medicinal purposes, of course.

"Wanda, we can' jus' torture 'em until we get our way, that ain' the smart way outta this shithole they've dug themselves into!" Rogue said, much exasperation evident in her tone.

"Well I just don't see any other options," Wanda said, crossing her arms and removing her hand from Laura's in the process. The cloned girl had a sudden burst of clarity, greatly aided by the reclaiming of her previous white-hot fury. She slammed her hand on to the table, getting the immediate attention of both her companions.

"That's not how you lead a campaign. This will require precision, planning, and seperation and subsequent breaking of the men," she said harshly, and Wanda nodded with approval.

"Now this, I like," she giggled, smirking a little and looking to Rogue with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you with us, Rogue?" The Southern Gothic bit her lip and then sighed.

"Guess it ain' the wors' plan in the world. Alragh' sugah, tell me what ya got." Laura smiled grimly.

"Divide and conquer. The amalgamation of our forces will come later. First, we need information, and we need to ascertain where their loyalties lie. Can you do that?" she looked round at both of them in turn. Rogue huffed and blew out her bangs.

"Honey, if there's one thang Ah know about mah Swamp Rat, it's how ta get him ta talk," she scoffed, and Wanda laughed, a delightful, tinkling sound.

"John and I have an understanding. He's not going to be any trouble, trust me." She looked at Laura seriously.

"Can you handle Kyle without setting back the operation? If he's damaged it'll cost you points, babe," she said with concern in her eyes, and Laura folded her arms under her breasts and slitted her eyes.

"Oh, don't worry. I can _deal_ with _him_."

Rogue reached over and kissed her sister's cheek, murmuring,

"Just don't get carried away honey, remember, he probably has his reasons."

"I am sure that he does. And I shall hear them," Laura said lightly, reaching for her glass and toasting the two others.

"To victory," she yelled, and the other two laughed and raised their glasses to meet hers, joining in the cry.

"To victory!"

* * *

The Brotherhood was not quite the shit hole it had once been in the days before Wanda fully moved in – mentally as well as physically – so the hall he entered when he basically picked the lock and forced entry – although let's not quibble over details – was actually very nice, save for a crack in the wall that could be the result of someone impacting with it.

"Rocky! Let's do this, I have a three-hour timeframe here!" he roared, and the bump he heard from the upper level told him he'd been heard.

"Keep your freakin' voice down!" was the reply – bellowed, so Kyle ignored the instruction to keep relatively quiet.

"Move it or lose it," he shouted, albeit at a slightly less homicidal decibel level, and he heard the clattering from upstairs well before he saw the disheveled Avalanche trudging down the stairs with his guitar and his amp in a bundle of wires in his arms.

"Living room?" the other mutant asked, and Kyle rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, Susie, this isn't a date, I don't need to see your boudoir," he sneered, and Lance sighed.

"What the hell is wrong with you today?" he asked grumpily as he led the way to the living room and started setting up his stuff while Kyle paced restlessly.

"Laura's on to me about this stupid holiday thing – I might have to skip town," he said angrily, and Lance paused and stared at him in total confusion.

"You what?"

Kyle stopped pacing and turned to face him with a deadly serious expression on his face.

"Laura knows I've held back on her about V-Day. If I can't explain that when I get home she'll have my head mounted on the goddamn wall by tomorrow morning," he spat, and Lance nodded.

"Oh... Okay. Well, what did you hold back?" he asked, fiddling with his amp lovingly, and Kyle raked a hand through his hair. Lance bit back a sigh of envy. He'd love to have 'because I'm worth it' locks himself but Kitty barely tolerated _the mullet_ as it was and he didn't think he had the genes to grow hair like that anyhow.

"The Summers thing. I didn't tell her about the competing part. Laura is going to kill me five different ways and bury me somewhere disgusting. I would. What the fuck was I thinking?" Lance chose not to comment since Kyle was clearly talking to himself – or his voices, like John sometimes did. Lance had yet to inquire as to whether Kyle had anyone else in his head besides himself though. He thought perhaps he'd need to be closer to the scary mutant before he asked such questions. He busied himself with the tuning while Kyle muttered about grisly demises and the like before clearing his throat and saying,

"Right, I'm ready. Let's do this." Kyle looked at him oddly for a moment.

"Do what?" Lance had experience with these situations after so long with John, whose mind worked much faster than other people's did and thus was not always on the same page or even in the same chapter as oneself during a conversation. He knew how to handle it.

"You were gonna help me with Kitty's song?" Kyle waved a hand at him absently.

"I know, I know, let's hear it then," he said irritably, and Lance licked his lips and cracked his fingers.

"Right... Ummm..." he fingered a few basic chords and then started the actual melody, fingers skimming notes hesitantly. Kyle visibly winced several times before he even reached the midway section of the intro. The second he opened his mouth to begin the first verse, the blonde held up a hand that halted Lance's fingers in jarring mid-note.

"What was that crap for? Did I hurt you _that_ badly with that Susie comment before? Because this was cruel and unusual punishment," he said mockingly, and Lance looked at him in surprise. He hadn't expected Kyle to be the nurturing sort of mentor, but this sort of criticism he was definitely not ready for.

"W-what?" Kyle rubbed his temples in frustration and got up from where he'd been sitting on the coffee table.

"Give me that thing," he demanded, and Lance handed over his precious guitar with many misgivings, watching in horror as the feral re-tuned it, slung the strap over his shoulders, settled it in his _clawed_ _hands_, and struck an experimental chord.

"Asia's _Never In A Million Years_, right?" he asked, but Lance was so stunned by this turn of events – and the fact that Kyle knew the song, or remembered Lance mentioning that it was that one – that he failed to respond.

"Hey, Tiffany!" Kyle said sharply, and Lance jerked into an attentive position.

"Yeah, that's right," he said quickly, and Kyle nodded.

"Great – couldn't tell before," he said, and Lance almost protested against the unfairness with remarks such as _'I've been playing for a long time you know'_ and _'Can you even play that song?'_ but then Kyle was playing the intro and it was so crisp and well-executed that Lance forgot to bitch.

"This is _so_ simple – Alvers pay attention!" Lance had apparently been too busy gawping in general to observe how Kyle was managing this feat of studio perfection. He amended this instantly.

"Okay, one more time – simple bloody piece of _shit_ – and this time, pay the fuck attention," Kyle grouched, the majority of the swearing directed seemingly at the song and in an undertone. Lance observed as Kyle ran through it again, admiring the clarity the feral wrung from the instrument, something Lance himself had trouble with on most pieces. He had a tendency to add a grungy element to his playing that didn't belong in a love song to his Kitty. Kyle finished the intro a second time and then gave Lance back his guitar.

"Play," he directed, and Lance slung on the guitar and placed his fingers in the correct starting positions. And hesitated.

"Um, how did you – "

"Just play," Kyle said curtly,

"It'll come if you stop obsessing and remember not to drag your fingers. It may be an eighties prog-rock lovesong of the pink and girly variety but it's still a damn sight more complicated than anything on the radio these days, there are real instruments involved, and Howe sure as hell didn't fuck around the way you do and we know this because otherwise it would have sounded a lot dirtier, now play it." Lance gaped at him.

"How do you – "

"Don't make me tell you again Shirley, I have my own problems I could be dealing with and you're barely paying me for this," Kyle warned, and Lance nodded.

"Right, okay, I'm sorry, I just get really nervous when I've got an audience," he apologised, willing his fingers to stop shaking, and Kyle sighed heavily.

"I'm not an audience, Alvers, I'm a critic. Now show me that you can do this and we'll see if I can be a good one."

* * *

Laura had driven she and Rogue back to the Institute, and immediately upon arrival had had to dodge one of Tabby's bombs, thrown at the unfortuate head of Sam, who had been trying to hide behind the car. In a fit of impetuous anger, Laura had screamed dire threats at them if they did not resolve their differences, and they had hidden from her together, something she felt was probably going to bring them closer. She had left Rogue to go and change into something naughty in aid of the information-gathering while she herself went to her own room to fume and think about how to handle Kyle.

She felt betrayed by him. Did he not wish to compete with her against the Summers'? Was he walking away from the field of battle because he thought it lost or because he did not wish to fight alongside her in this? Or was it because he did not think it important to win at all, to prove that they could? Either way, it was treachery. She would not tolerate it. She also did not get halfway to her room before she met Jean.

"Hey Laura, I just saw Rogue but she seemed in a hurry so I didn't want to disturb her – where have you been all this time? You left really early," she asked, cheery and bright. Laura wondered if knocking her teeth into her throat was a legitimate tactic to forward her inevitable victory. She hadn't asked Rogue about that. Cyclops would have a hard time kissing someone with a broken jaw...

"We were out," she said stiffly, and Jean foolishly put a hand on her arm and leant in, such concern on the face that Laura wanted to bash in viciously.

"We saw Kyle run out earlier, did you two argue or something?" she asked softly, and Laura tore her arm from the tenuous grip and squared off with the telepath, who looked rightly uneasy.

"We do not argue. We _fight_. And I do not lose, Jean Grey. Remember that. You will see before the end that it is the truth," she said quietly, and Jean's eyes widened as she stepped back.

"I don't know what you – "

"The fourteenth."

Jean shook her head a little, looking confused, but Laura did not care for such foolish throw-offs. The telepath looked past her and took another step back, and Laura didn't move although she heard him approaching.

"K – Kyle, could you please tell Laura that nothing's happening on the fourteenth," Jean asked quickly, eyes pleading with the other feral as she fought to remain calm. Laura felt his hand on her shoulder and the tension in him as he loomed over Jean at her side. She wanted to hear his answer just as much as the redhead.

"On the fourteenth?" he asked, sounding every bit as controlled as she felt, and she held her breath for another betrayal – another lie.

"On the fourteenth, you lose," he growled, and Jean took another step back at the threat in his tone, bumping into a small, ornamental table. Laura felt a surge of insistent warmth rising up inside her.

"Laur'... You and I have something to discuss," he said, voice richer now that he was addressing her and ignoring Jean, who took the opportunity to escape their ominous presence. Laura turned, narrowed her eyes at him. He returned the gaze without flinching. She nodded, just the once.

"There is nothing to discuss. You have chosen your allies," she said, the emotion in her changing her tone, making it darker. His eyes darkened with it.

"I only have one," he replied, and she smiled.

"Then we do have things to discuss..."

* * *

John had not been prepared for the strangeness that met him after he returned from his drink with the distraught Cajun, but he did return to a house in utter disarray.

Wanda was cooking in the kitchen and singing blithely about eating brains – a tune he recalled from a cartoon they enjoyed – while in the living room Pietro was trying to have three conversations on two different phones at the same time, and Lance was hovering in the background insisting that it was his turn to use the phone for his check-up call with the littlest Sheila. Pietro was fighting him off as best he could while remaining suave and evasive during his various conversations. Upstairs he could hear Blob showering – when Blob showered everyone in the county knew about it, the sliding noises truly spectacular as he manoeuvred around – and Toad was jumping around the kitchen relating something to Wanda in a high-pitched, excited voice. John decided the kitchen was the better place to be.

" – and she's just like me! Well, almost – but she said she'd have dinner with me on Valentine's Day and now I have to figure out what she wants and I can't really take her to a restaurant or anything – you'll see why when you meet her – but she's so great, and – " John had to dodge the excitable amphibious mutant as he hopped around, babbling away about this apparently Morlock girl.

"We'd love to meet her Toad, bring her around anytime. We've got a manhole just outside, I guess you two could go by the sewers if you don't want to be seen – John!" The pyromaniac slipped his arms around Wanda under her own and took the spoon from her, stirring the pancake batter for her, and she twisted a little to kiss him on the cheek.

"I thought you were out – Todd's telling me all about his date for V-Day!" she said happily, and John mumbled something unintelligible into her neck that made her laugh. Todd perched on the back of a kitchen chair and tilted it backwards and forwards, nodding.

"Yeah, she's great, yo! I really want Wanda to meet her – ya know I trust your opinion Poopsie – but she's kinda shy so it might be hard to get her to come..." John mumbled some more, and Wanda gave Todd a smile.

"You tell her we're not judgmental, okay? She's very welcome – John, don't do that, it's not ready yet – " he lowered the spoon from where he'd been about to test the batter's suitability for consumption, and stepped away from her, letting her carry on with her cooking.

"Sure, mate, bring 'er round," he said to Toad, who grinned and then leapt out of the door, no doubt to go and let the lucky girl know.

"How was Remy?" Wanda asked sweetly, prepping the pan, and John shook his head.

"In a bad way, luv. He's worried the magic's gone 'tween him an' Rogue. I told him he was bein' daft but he doesn' listen when it's ta do with 'er, you know that," he said sadly, and Wanda gave him a sympathetic look, pouring batter onto the pan and tipping it to ensure an even spread.

"He's so lucky to have you," she said proudly,

"I know he thinks so too. And he and Rogue will be fine, they're in love – anyway, their fights never last, do they?" John gave her a grateful glance and then leaned over and kissed her hair.

"I'm a lucky bastard m'self," he said honestly, and she smiled at him.

"Yes you are," she agreed, flipping the pancake.

"You know, I spoke to Rogue – all that V-Day upset has kicked off over there, I think it's getting to her... Did Remy mention that at all?" John scooped the pancake off the pan and folded it, scoffing it before she could object.

"John!" she put her hands on her hips and gave him a glare, and he had the decency to look guilty.

"Have ta test the first one, Wanda, it's tradition!" he defended himself, and she sighed and had to smile.

"Alright then. But leave the rest. Now answer the question!" He shrugged.

"He mentioned that the Summers' 'ave moved back in for the duration – think maybe tha's what's gettin' t' Rogue?" Wanda made a little noise and poured out another pancake on the pan. John subtly readied himself to liberate it.

"Maybe. Jean and Scott really upset her – she can't really get over how mean they were to Remy in the beginning. I think the whole 'we're the better couple' thing is the worst, really. I mean, it's the worst form of arrogance to assume that you're a better couple than someone else just because you publicise it more..." Wanda mused, and John nodded, watching the pancake flip in midair.

"They are pretty annoyin' with all that crap they pull on V-Day. Remy mentioned it," he said casually, not noticing the smirk on Wanda's face.

"You know, I think they've been allowed to get away with that for far too long... Upsetting things the way they do..." she said, ignoring it when he snatched the second pancake too.

"I think maybe it's time they had a little... friendly competition. Do you think the others would be up for it..?" she asked, and he licked his fingers clean and then grinned at her.

"You mean pullin' out all the stops ta teach them a lesson, luv?"

"I was thinking along those lines, yes..."

"Aw... Ya know I love ya, righ'?" She laughed, staving him off with the battery spoon.

"I do, I do – but you have pancake fingers!" John gave up trying to hug her and instead grabbed the spoon and poured another pancake out onto the pan.

"I know I do – but do we also have a plan?" She smirked.

"Maybe we do..."

* * *

As Remy lay in the glorious aftermath of hot, Southern lovin', he pondered the strangeness of the female of the species. How could it be that she had been so upset and then so cold, then angry, and finally given a little time, had then apparently changed her mind about him and decided that what she really wanted was something Cajun befor dinner?

"Ya know, sugah... Ah think maybe you an' Ah could win at this whole V-Day thang – ya know, make a game of it... Maybe the others could play, too," she said in a breathy voice. His brain skipped a few waves.

"Anytin' y' say, _chere?_"

"That's raght..."


	5. Day 3 12:00 Hours

**DISCLAIMER: Only the story is mine.**

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**V-Day - Day Three - 12:00 Hours - Mansion**

Kyle was giving Illyana a piggyback ride down the stairs when he heard yelling outside, and he managed to manoeuvre the wriggling Russian doll off his back and set her down on the floor without issue, although she protested forcefully in her mother tongue. He caught some of it, although not nearly as proficient as Laura was, and while most of it seemed a bit strong for a dainty little girl her age, he applauded her candour nonetheless. There was nothing wrong with raising children to be straight shooters, both in the figurative and the literal sense.

"See you later sweets, I have to go and do something for Laura, okay?" he said kindly, and she pouted, crossing her arms, and then looked up at him with big blue eyes.

"Kitty has time later?" He had to smile at that one. The child had been oddly attached to the notion that he was to be played with ever since he'd moved in – something he didn't pretend to understand at all – and like Torpid she had decided that he was huggable, climb-on-able, and a good ally in the face of the other grown ups who liked rules. She also insisted that he was 'Kitty', and that Kitty was 'Katerina', something that annoyed the brunette phaser considerably. Kyle found it hilarious. He ruffled her hair and grinned at her.

"If Laura says I can, I'll come and play with you lot later. I have to go now." The little girl giggled.

"Laura be cross if Kitty stays?" He nodded, pretending to grimace at the notion, and she giggled again and waved at him.

"I tells Laura you be's good, Kitty!" she called, and he grinned even wider. He'd only ever admit it to Laura herself, but he had a real soft spot for those kids. Not quite Daddy-dearest like Logan was to the girls, but he definitely liked that they were so guilelessly innocent around him, so totally accepting and unafraid. Children were truly marvellous creatures.

Walking through the doors, he narrowly missed being a target for Amara's somewhat ah – _fiery_ – outburst, but he ducked in time and she gave him an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry Kyle, won't happen again!" she called, then rounded on Bobby again, arms flaring up as he constructed a shield with his own powers and prepared to grovel.

"Honey I didn't mean it like th – " he tried, sensing the lapse in her attentions might be beneficial to his cause, but she took aim coldly and fired at will. Kyle leant against the wall, crossed his arms, and bore witness to the hilarity and the justice that all men feel when witnessing other men get it in the arse from their respective women. It's a special feeling.

"I _told_ you how important it was to me – I told you _specifically_, Bobby!" she screeched, and Kyle bit back a snigger as Drake hit the ground to avoid getting badly singed. Amara's precision was always off when she was emotional, something that Bobby usually used to his advantage.

"But baby, it was just a – "

"I don't care! I don't care if you hardly even _breathed_ on her while it went down! How could you do this to me? And now of all times!" Kyle had to raise an eyebrow at that one. Amara was known for being hysterically possessive of the ice-wielding coward she called her significant other, but this all sounded suspiciously like a real transgression.

"What in de **hell**, _mes amis?_" Remy yelled from the balcony of his and Rogue's room above and to the right of them, a towel around his middle and his upper body bared to the bitter winds.

"Lover's tiff," Kyle yelled back, and Remy threw his hands up in the air and muttered something about crazy shit going down before noon.

"It _is_ noon, you bloody Cajun," Kyle shouted at him with a laugh, and Remy pointed at him with a loud but sulky,

"Don' y' lis'en in on Remy's mutterin', y' hear? Ain' none o' your – " A pale arm reached out past the scrolled brickwork of their balcony's opening from Rogue's room, and Remy was suddenly distracted. Kyle rolled his eyes and tuned back in to the adolescents who were still fighting over something trivial as Remy disappeared once more into his and Rogue's room. Oh well. He couldn't begrudge the Cajun a little private time with his _chere_. He could only imagine how rough it had to have been not being able to touch her for so long, and even now her control still slipped at times.

" – that's not the _point_, Bobby! Everyone saw you together – _everyone!_ You didn't even have the decency to ask the others to go with you so you two wouldn't be alone and I _know_ she's had a crush on you for, like, a _year!_" Amara was sobbing now, and Bobby seemed at a loss for words, reduced to repeating,

"But baby, I didn't mean it!" and Kyle felt a little sorry for them. Until Laura linked her arm through his and jostled him.

"Amara found out?" she asked, sounding excited, and he looked down at her, taking in the way she looked overly pleased with the train wreck that was Bobby's explanation, and the way her eyes shone with excitement.

"Laura Howlett, you clever little minx – you knew this would happen, didn't you?"

She looked up at him with a coy smile.

"Maybe I did... While you were playing with the children I was busy ensuring our future victory."

He smirked.

"And this was done how exactly?" he asked, letting her lean into him as she trained her eyes on the angry Amara once more.

"Oh, _I_ did nothing. I merely drove Amara to the store, past the diner where Bobby and that Tammy girl were reviewing their notes for Drama as per their agreement."

Kyle nodded.

"An agreement, you say? Of what nature?"

Laura gave him a quick little laugh and squeezed his arm.

"An agreement I suggested he establish so as to practice their roles for classes on Wednesday – Tammy was most amenable to the suggestion and they arranged a meeting," she said lightly, and he grinned.

"And Amara just happened to need a lift?" Laura looked up at him reproachfully.

"Indeed she did. She is ovulating and needed to purchase some personal articles. _That_ was an opportune and fortuitous coincidence. However, she _didn't_ know that the main road _isn't_ closed for road-work..." He kissed her forehead lovingly.

"You," he said happily,

"Are a tactical genius. I am a lucky, lucky son of a bitch."

Laura laughed.

"Oh, there is more. I accidentally pointed her attention towards Bobby and Tammy while we drove past and so when we returned she was livid and asked me if I had Tammy's number," she said deviously, and he had to laugh.

"Which you did. And of course any woman looking to steal another woman's man is going to play up the meeting as though they did it in the damn booth," he said matter-of-factly, to which Laura nodded.

"Precisely. Humans are so easily misled into anger..." she looked out over the lawn where Amara was chasing Bobby towards the gates.

"It is sad really that there is so little trust..." she sighed, and he nodded, curving his arms around her waist as they watched the other couple racing across the grounds.

"Is it dreadfully wrong that I feel very, very close to you right now?" she asked, and he chuckled.

"You mean united as we are in the destruction of this entire holiday as they know it and closing in on our inevitable victory?" he asked lightly, and she looked up at him.

"Yes. Is that wrong?" He mulled it over briefly.

"Certainly not." She seemed pleased with the promptness of the reply and smiled at him.

"Now that they are out of the way, what say you to moving on to our next target? I shall need you for this one to work..." she said, with a quirk of her eyebrow that he knew very well. He suddenly felt very human himself.

"I am yours to command..."

* * *

Kurt was in the kitchen, writing furiously on a pad, when John strolled in, teabag dangling from his finger as was his customary mode of kitchen-entry. Kurt knew this well, and so didn't take much notice when John boiled the kettle and made himself a cup of Tetley's before sauntering over to look at the blue mutant's hopeless attempts at sonnet-writing.

"Well well, somethin' for the Sheila, am I right?" he asked, and Kurt sighed, nodding.

"Ja... I just vant it to be perfect for Amanda and it won't come out the way I want it to... I don't think I am cut out for romance," he lamented, and John patted his back and then gave him a gentle shove.

"Scoot over mate, let me show ya how it's done," he said cheerily, and Kurt brightened instantly.

"Really? You'd do zat for me?" he asked, relinquishing his seat to the wordsmithying Aussie, who grinned and tipped him a wink.

"If there's one thing I know, my furry friend, it's how ta win the Sheila's over with a few adjectives an' sincere handwritin' – it's me job!" he said magnanimously, picking up the pen and sipping his tea while Kurt arranged himself on a stool next to him.

"So; how d' ya want ta start?"

* * *

" – and you helped him? That's not part of the deal!" Rogue yelled, poking John in the chest repeatedly to really get the point across. John winced with every sharp-nailed contact.

"Bu' I was jus' – "

"When Wanda get's wind of this – "

"Oh Lord no, please don' tell Wanda, she'll do terrible things to me, y' don' know the half of it – "

"_Chere_, perhaps we can all calm down a li'l, _non?_ After all, Kurt's yo' brother, an' we like him an' Amanda, don' we? Can' we make allowances jus' this once?" Rogue shot Remy a dirty look and he flinched and returned to his hair-towelling.

"If Ah hadn' found you in that there kitchen there's no tellin' how much damage ya could'a done! You do realise that?" she asked John, who looked wretched and wrung his hands.

"He's ya brother, I thought you wouldn' mind me givin' the bloke a little help with that stupid bloody note," John tried to defend his treachery, and Rogue's eyes narrowed to slits.

"Let me explain this to you real slowly so even your Australian-wired brain can figure it out raght," she began, but was rudely interrupted by Wanda entering the room with a big smile on her face, humming a little tune. Her large stormy eyes widened at the sight of her boyfriend in the clutches of an angry Rogue with a downcast Remy idly rubbing a towel over his hair in the corner and the air of conflict thick and heavy around them. She seemed to understand the situation with no more prompting than that.

"John, what have you done?" she asked in a defeated sort of tone, putting her hands on her hips and levelling a stare at the Aussie who deflated completely.

"Wanda love, I swear, I thought it was alrigh' but Roguey doesn' agree an' I'm sorry an' it won' happen again an' – "

Wanda waved his excuses off and said,

"Rogue, what was it?"

"He was writin' a love letter for Amanda for mah stupid brother because Kurt ain' exactly the world's greatest ladies man an' John does that thang with the words an' that stuff. Johnny forgot our deal," Rogue said honestly, and Wanda sighed and shook her head.

"Is Kurt even in the running here? I mean, Amanda's not a mutant and they keep it really quiet between them – do they count at all?" she asked, looking at Rogue with a confused wrinkle between her brows. Rogue looked a little startled at the question, clearly having not considered this obvious obstacle in the path of Kurt's placement in the V-Day proceedings.

"Ah – y' know Ah jus' hadn' thought o' that sugah? Hell if Ah know! What do you think?"

Wanda scrunched up her nose and mused for a few seconds.

"I'm not sure... I don't think it counts when she's not really one of us. I don't think you can bring in outsiders... Maybe we should ask Laura's opinion on this one? I think it's only fair. I don't want her getting all upset again because we've left her out of things..."

Rogue nodded sagely and then smiled at John and winked at Remy.

"You two wait here, we're jus' gonna go see if Laura agrees an' then we'll be back. Ah gotta know if you've had it yet," she said casually, and John gave Remy a worried look to which he responded with one of utter sympathy. The girls left, discussing the matter, and Remy apprached John and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"They're really takin' this t' the nex' level, aren' they?" John asked, still somewhat shaken by Rogue's initial reaction to what she deemed high treason.

"Oh, yeah, _mon ami_, dis is serious business f' sure. Won' surprise Remy none, dem _filles_ end up killin' us all 'fore dis is done wit'."

John heaved a great sigh.

"That's what I was afraid of, mate…"

* * *

They were mid-knock when Laura unlocked and yanked open the door to her room standing in the minimal gap between frame and door she had left, glaring at them.

"What?" she demanded, and Rogue, a little taken aback, looked to Wanda for the answer. The witch took over, delicately ignoring Laura's extremely messy hair.

"Well, John helped Kurt write a love letter to Amanda and that started a discussion about whether or not she and Kurt count as a couple around here, since she's not one of us," she said tactfully, and Laura levelled a look at Rogue.

"You shouted at him?" she asked, and Rogue made a face.

"Of course Ah did."

"In that case, I think we should discount Kurt and Amanda. They are an unassuming, part-mutant couple who prefer to keep their relationship low profile. I do not think they would wish to be a part of this."

"Sure, makes sense," Rogue said reasonably, and Wanda nodded.

"Kurt's so shy anyway, he'd probably feel out of place with something like this," she concurred.

"Well if that's settled, I think John deserves an apology. If you'll excuse me," Laura said politely, disappearing behind the door again. They heard locks being utilised.

"Well… that was… awkward…" Rogue said as they walked the distance back to her and Remy's room, and Wanda gave her a sunny smile.

"Oh, don't be so silly," she said calmly,

"There's nothing wrong with a nice midday shag."

* * *

"… think we need to replace the sheets again…"

"Hmmm? I wasn't listening. What were you saying?" Laura mumbled, stretching languorously, and Kyle looked up from her right foot, which he was rubbing, careful to avoid her unsheathed claw.

"Absolutely nothing of importance. I'll take care of it," he answered, and she smiled, closing her eyes.

"You already took care of everything…" she reminded him, curling her toes with a little gasp as he manipulated the spot where one of the smaller, more delicate bones always shifted to make way for her foot-claw. Healing factor aside, the areas around her various claws always benefited from a little massage.

"Not quite everything," he murmured,

"A victory a day is all well and good, but at this rate, with even the slightest potential for reconciliation between the parties, we might still be pressed for time."

"So what do you suggest? Causing lasting damage?" she asked, a little furrow between her brows appearing and then disappearing as quickly as it had arrived as pressure was applied to a different spot just below and to the right of her ankle.

"Of course not… Simply ensuring that they can't repair the damage caused until our purpose has been fulfilled… Anything beyond that is their responsibility."

"…Mmm…. Isn't that a little unfair? They're only children…"

"Perhaps… That just means they'll learn the valuable lesson of trusting no one but yourself and rectifying your mistakes. It'll build character. Something they can be thankful for later, when they really grow up."

She looked down at him with hooded eyes.

"True… They are allowed far too much egotistical leeway when it comes to their mistakes. What does it matter if the situations aren't created by them? They should be able to handle them regardless. It can hardly hurt for them to be forced to take a look at their own behaviour for once, rather than focusing on everyone else's."

"I keep telling you not to care about their opinions. None of them have the right to judge us," he told her, the slight reproach in his tone mostly drowned in the throaty quality his voice took on, and she grimaced.

"Did I tell you that Tabitha was spreading malicious gossip about me?" she asked, and he made a sound to indicate she had not.

"She told Amara that I was a whore."

He looked up in mild surprise.

"What does that matter? It's a legitimate profession. Anyway, what business is it of hers what you were before you came here?"

Laura shrugged minutely, a look of discontent twisting her lips together.

"I don't know. I believe she was drunk. She implied both that it was due to my emotional difficulties, and that the only reason you did not care was that you were just as damaged as I am and that we were likely both grateful for someone we cannot damage further and who is unlikely to strive for a more… suitable partner."

Kyle gave her a long, steady look.

"So in short, she thinks that you chose that path because it was the only way you could connect carnally with anyone, and that the only reason I can ignore your past is that I'm equally as psychopathic and desperate as you?" he asked, and she nodded.

"That seemed to be all there was to it."

He returned to the business of loosening the kinks in the ball of her foot pensively, and after a moment spoke again.

"In light of that, I believe we ought to impose upon Tabitha the understanding of what it really means to be thought badly of by those who do not know a thing about you, and what it really is to be alone… and desperate."

Laura's eyes lit up, and she retracted the claw of the foot he was working on, slowly.

"Because it will prove beneficial to the mission, you mean?" she asked lightly, and he bowed his head to place a kiss over the rapidly healing skin.

"Among other things," he responded, and she laughed and leant in to kiss him.

"But we shan't cause any lasting damage..?" she asked breathlessly, pulling away for a second to look him in the eyes.

"Of course not… Unless… You want to…"

He pushed her hair to one side and pressed a kiss to her neck, just below her ear, before adding,

"After all… There's a difference between actively trying to bury them… and helping them bury themselves…"


End file.
